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The Beacon “Books are lighthouses in the great sea of time.” - Edwin P. Whipple
Fellowship Place 441 Elm street New haven, Ct www.fellowshipplace.org
By Kathy K.
Seasons Come and Go First Autumn Leaves, Then Snow Why Does Time Fly Be? Asters, Carnations, Ferns Basking in the Fall, Fresh Air Dreaming All Day Long.
This member‐run newsletter, The Beacon, is just one of the many programs that Fellowship Place offers—which provides members with an opportunity to be creative thinkers and writers, and, at the same time share information about the latest of events happening at Fellowship Place. We hope you enjoy this issue. Please see Sara B. if you are interested in joining The Beacon newsletter staff or if you have something you would like to contribute to our next issue.
From Khazars to EgyptAn Amazing Spooky Discovery For Halloween by Jon S.
As stated in earlier articles, around 1989-1991 I found that my family was related to Queen Elizabeth II of Great Britain. In 2006 when watching CNN-TV I saw their report, which I was alerted to by chance, on DNA testing by National Geographic. I got their address and ordered a kit. In Summer, 2006 I got my results. I had type G which started in Africa and went to the Middle East, thence to Pakistan and the Himalaya Mountains. Type G started the Neolithic farming revolution. On Tuesday, September 24, 2013 I found that the Khazars, a Turko-Mongolian in south Russia had some G DNA according to K. Erciyes’ report published on the internet on June 25, 2008. I had found Erciyes’ report by chance. His associate Ted Kandell’s report of June 26, 2008 supported the G type in Khazars-specifically G2a1a. G2 a1a is a branch of type G. The Khazars converted to Judaism around 800 A.D. I’ll write more about them in the Hanukkah issue of The Beacon. On Wednesday, September 25, 2013, there was a ¾ full moon out early in the morning. In the computer center, something told me to look at the website,” Y-DNA Haplogroups of Ancient Civilizations.” The first one on the list was Egypt! Egyptian DNA from Neollithic times to the Bronze Age had the following types (Haplogroups): E/b1b, R1b-V88, T and guess what-G! Not G2 or its brother haplogroups but pure G! I had found that at 3:20 P.M. in the afternoon…. Back in my apartment I found a valuable article,”Egypt2Britain- Queen Hatshepsut to H.M.Queen Elizabeth.” I had originally found that article on May 8, 2002 when I had just started to use the internet. It had no author but it seems to have been done by David Hughes who had similar articles all over the internet. The article traced Queen Hatshepsut(c.1500 B.C.)’s descendants in the 18th and 19th Dynasties of pharaohs down to Cyrus the Great of Persia, Alexander the Great, kings of Parthia in Persia, kings of Armenia, Byzantine Christian emperors; thence to French nobles and on to William the Conqueror! Going back to Egypt, we learn that Pharaoh Thutmose IV married Mutemwiya, daughter of King Artatama of the Mitanni, who lived southeast of Turkey. Tutankhamun who was related to Thutmose IV, was in Hatshepsut’s dynasty. The Mitanni royalty were Indo-European whose language was related distantly to English! King Tut’s mother-in-law was the famous beauty Nefertiti, who happens to have been Mitannian, daughter of King Tusratta. Later, another pharaoh, Seti I (ruled 1323-1304 B.C.) was an inlaw of an unnamed sister of Suppiluliumas, king of the Indo-European iron-using Hittites of Turkey. In Irish legend, the Irish came from Scythia (south Russia) and settled in Egypt. One of their princes married a woman known only by her Irish name as Scota. She was the daughter of a pharaoh. Scota went to Ireland (see The Book of Invasions of Ireland). Since the Irish are Indo-European, maybe the tale of Scota is a memory of the Mitanni and Hittite marriages. Some people think I look Irish…. I remembered Chris Bennett’s websites on Egyptian genealogy. He is an expert on the Ptolemys, the dynasty of Greek pharaohs descended from Ptolemy I, a general of Alexander the Great. When Alexander the Great died, Ptolemy I took over Egypt. Bennett reported that Ptolemy I’s mother Arsinoe was a relative of Alexander the Great. One of Ptolemy I’s descendants was Berenice who married Psherenptah II, High Priest of the city of Memphis in north Egypt. Psherenptah II died in 103 B.C. but he had descendants. The most famous ruler of the Ptolemy Dynasty, though, was Cleopatra VII the Great! Lastly, there is a legend reported by the Greek historian Herodotus that the people of Colchis near the Black Sea and the Caucasus Mts were descended from a colony set up by Pharaoh Sesostris. While most historians dismiss that tale, it is interesting to note that Type G DNA is heavy in that region!
… g n i r u K. Fe ata y h t K
The Poetry Corner
Maturity is knowing when to say no! Maturity is realizing one’s limitations. Maturity is taking good care of yourself and not trying to play solitaire on your big problems.
Personal freedom is not free. It’s something you earn. It’s something you learn to appreciate. Over time you learn to give, To set priorities and limits. You learn to create your own space. Realizing that we are adults We have maturity because we consider alternatives and choices when necessary.
Featuring… Do W.
New Life Mind thought the Body feeling. Although, perhaps, Body felt Mind thinking. In Every Way The Mind’s body feels While the Body’s Mind things: When I see you, Always, I feel warmth of New Life Within my Body’s chest.
JOIN US FOR WRITERS’ GROUP TUESDAYS 2:00-3:00 in HALD 2
. . . g i n e B. r u t Fe a D e si r e
The Poetry Corner
On the Night of Halloween On the night of Halloween at midnight , sneaky black cats with orange, evil eyes, crawl out of nowhere awakening the shadow of death. On the night of Halloween nightmares become real‐ ity, shocking innocent victims who had hardly enough time to catch their breath. On the night of Halloween, the earth will be plagued with howling werewolves, blood thirsty moaning vampire, and spooky invisible ghosts. On the night of Halloween, witches dressed in black cast spells and position unsuspecting folks. On the night of Halloween, terrifying goblins and flesh crawling, spine tingling monsters with hideous spores and green teeth, spread gloom and grief. On the night of Halloween , a full moon creeps out into a chilly fear stricken, autumn sky. The wind howls and whispers to trees, shaking them roughly! Wickedness is in the air!!
Exhausted and all tuckered out from summers blazing heat. Shrubbery trees and plants, a fall passion re‐ lease. Biting insects and buzzing stinging bees, de‐ part with summer, as fall trees dance and sway in the breeze. Furry brown squirrels on nuts and acorns feed. A chilly wind scattering, reddish, golden, au‐ tumn leaves,. Fleeing in cold autumn weather, birds take flight, fall knocking them over with a feather.
That Green Spotted Frog Named Roy There was once was a green, spotted frog named Roy Who played hopscotch with skeesters until his feet were blistered and sore, Roy hopped and leaping for joy, In the school yard his company and presence was cherished and enjoyed. That agile, green, spotted frog was beloved of school age girls and boys, more than games, dolls, candy, toys, That friendly, acrobatic, green spotted frog named Roy.
Featuring… Maxwell C.
The Poetry Corner
When I paint, or paint well, it is as though I neither think about the painting, nor much of anything else, almost at all. I often just kind of unknowingly witness my greatest works coming together before me. These habitually grace-like suspensions of my own consciousness I experience while painting do not signal the absence of cognitive work from my compositional process. My paintings are nowise unthinking, only preconscious in their logical element or guidance. It is almost miraculous: when painting, I find myself very significantly relieved of all but the least flickerings of consciousness in my waking life, thus also all of its intentionalities, symbolisms, imaginations, fantasies, delusions, etc. However I feel, or am, I most directly and immediately express. I have somehow habituated myself to express my affective conditions on canvas prior to or minus any aesthetic ideologies. Other, more cortex-mediated paths of abstract thinking and aesthetic method lack the candor and vitality of my ability to follow my more direct, decentralized, and unspecialized nervous excitations. Defining sets of aesthetic laws for painting, or incorporating consciousness into aesthetic composition, is very often a futile exercise, verging sometimes even on a serious impediment to the fullest creative growth of painters. This guidance of my nerves, or my obedience to my most immediate perceptions of sense, these are my general observations of myself as a painter alone, they are not present in my mind while I compose my works. And my promotion of my nervous instincts over my more normative cognitive systems, this abnormality of my artistry is also an emblem of my wider societal abnormality. I never intend to do anything when I paint, but perhaps it will, just as such, allow me to escape the brutal mediocrity of normative societies, as also avoid any further psychiatric hospitalizations. Painting is a world wherein I am more allowed to be abnormal, in my special sense of sensuous hypnosis as perhaps in others.
I am cupcakes for you. do not tranquilize my lasers. I have twelve. people are persons to me. Numbers have many ways. I like you. You are cool. We have a good time together. It is fun. Humans are too young to know. The stars are too old. Juniper trees collapse around me. I am wavy. There are three stairs more to climb until finality.
Lights Out By Ryan D.
It could only have meant one thing that day the lights went out: winter was over and the electric company was done putting up with our partial payments. “Should we vacate?” my wife asked. “No,” I said. “We’ll get by.” When I thought about it, I had no idea what we were going to do. I thought we could eat peanut butter and jelly, and I started crunching the numbers on how much we could save on food. "No coffee, no job... this is a sinking ship," I said to myself, and then I wondered if my wife and kids, with one less mouth to feed, would do better without me. I could come back when I got a job and was able to put some money together. "Keep checking the mailbox for the food stamps we applied for,” I told my wife as she looked at me with sad but focused eyes. The house was as good as gone, I thought. We hadn’t paid the mortgage in over three months. I’d leave the car for my family, and I’d hitchhike. I'd be back. "I'm going to take a walk to get some fresh air," I said. As I walked outside, my mind started going through different scenarios. "This is how I'd leave," I said to myself, "I wouldn't take any possessions. I'd just walk away." The farther I got from the house, the more my thoughts of escape aided me. “I wasn't going back,” I realized, “I'm leaving right now.” The more I asked myself if I should do it, the more convinced I became that I wouldn't be coming back. As I got to the main road, I stuck out my thumb. Five or ten minutes later an old Buick driven by a young kid pulled over, and I hopped in. "Where are you going?" the kid asked. "Downtown. To the bus terminal." I shut the car door, and we were off to the station. Just then I realized I probably didn't have enough money for bus fare, so I started mentally counting my money. "Where are you going?" "To the bus stop," I said. "No, but where are you going from there? Are you taking a bus?" "Albany," I said. I had always wanted to go there since I met my friend Tom who was a transplant from the capital city. Nowadays we didn't have too many friends, and those friends we did have didn't have enough space to put up our whole family. My parents died young, and Sheila's family, my wife's family, lived all the way in Wisconsin. "Are you going to see somebody?" "Yes, I'm going to meet a friend of mine." I wondered if maybe Sheila would return to her parents. Maybe she'd drop off the kids and go looking for work. Sheila had been a house wife since we had our two kids Malcolm and Desire. Prior to that she was a shampoo girl in a women’s salon. We figured it would have been cheaper for her to stay home and watch the kids than it would have been to put them in day care. It was up to me to be the bread winner. These were tough times, I thought, our plastics shop hadn't been doing well, and that's why they laid me off. I was a factory worker. I didn't have any real skills. I had gotten lucky and landed a job in my hometown city of New Haven. It was really my first steady job, and the money was good, but the age of factories in the U.S. had passed by a long time ago. Nowadays factory work got outsourced to China and Mexico. My driver pulled up to the bus station. "Here you are," he said. I thanked him for the ride, and I went inside to check the ticket prices. Surprisingly, I was only short about $15, so I started to panhandle just outside the entrance. I felt an aching hole in my heart as I started collecting money from strangers. This money wouldn't go to support my family, but it would go to me instead. I needed a break, so I went back inside the station to the cafe, and I ordered a small coffee. I sat down on the bench and thumbed through a newspaper someone had kindly left on the seat. More and more, the news tried to distract me, but as it did, this guilty feeling began to overpower me. I went back outside and asked people for spare change. One guy gave me a whole dollar, and my head fell in despair. "I can't do this," I thought to myself, "I can't leave my family behind. Some guys could, but not me." I quickly finished my coffee and started walking back to the house. Panhandling wasn't so bad, and I could foresee myself with a "will work for food" sign on the side of the road. I could do that, I thought. Maybe we could go to the food pantry too. As I walked down the road, I noticed my shoes were worn, and I would need a new pair soon. I'd have to add that to my list of stuff I can't afford to do, but thank God for Walmart where I could find a pair for under $20. I returned to my house and opened the screen door. "How was your walk?" my wife asked. "Good." I nodded my head and looked at my wife and kids. "Good." Sheila handed me the baby. "You watch her. I'm going to get dinner together." I hugged Desire and looked at my son. "Daddy loves you guys," I said, and Malcolm smiled at me. Things 6 would be okay, I thought, maybe not now but things would soon work out.
MONDAY NIGHT SOCIAL CALENDAR
November through December 2013 Every Monday 5:30-8:00
December 2: D.B Magic presents “Dean Martin & Marilyn Monroe Christmas” with fes‐ tive songs and entertainment by your favorite impersonators. December 9: Get your body moving for a fun Zumba workout with Lauren H.! December 16: Trim the Fellowship Place Christmas tree and deck the halls for the holidays. Music provided by the Music Makers. December 23: Get in the spirit with a holiday movie festival with dinner, soda, and popcorn. December 30: Party like it’s 2013 one last time at the Year’s End Dance Party!
November 4: Fellowship Place Annual Prom Night. Dress to im‐ press for a special night of finery with your Fellowship friends! November 11: MATIAS, the magi‐ cian comes to town. Join us for a truly magical evening! November 18: Member Recogni‐ tion Dinner. Please join us at the Member Recognition Dinner as we thank members who have taken the lead in helping our programs. November 25: ART & CRAFTS decorating for Thanksgiving Day Meal on November 26th!
Thank you to all the members who contributed to this issue of the Beacon!
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